"Don't talk of it—I can't get what I want," said the old man.
"I cannot bear giving up one of them," said the widow; "but there's Maurice,—the child is ill, I believe he will die here in the town, but he might live in the country; will you take him, sir?" and then, having said thus much, Mrs. Shipton quite broke down, and hid her face among Janet's curls.
At this moment the conversation was interrupted by a scream from Maurice, as the door was opened, and a boy in a sailor's dress stood amongst them.
"Alan!"
"My boy, my boy!" and Mrs. Shipton held out her arms to him.
ALAN'S RETURN.
Mr. Smith looked at him for a minute, and then putting his hand to his head, he hastily left the room. It seemed as if he saw his own Alan again, in all the strength and beauty of his boyhood. Before the lodger returned to the sitting-room, Alan had been told who he was, and what he wanted to do; and though he thought for Maurice's sake it was best, the way in which his arm was twisted round his little brother's neck, told how sore a trial it would be to part with him. Maurice alone was unmoved; the thought of the country seemed to have great attractions for him, and Mr. Smith's stories and general kindness had quite won his heart. Mr. Smith lifted him on to his knee, but did not speak a word, for he was looking intently at Alan all the time.
"Do you like being at sea, Alan?" asked Janet.
Alan shook his head, but said quickly, "Janet, it doesn't matter what one likes; it's what's best;" and a brave courageous smile came upon the boy's handsome face.